“There’s definitely no kid. But do you really think you’re the only guy ever to blow me off after a hookup? They’re called one-night stands for a reason.”
I look at this attractive, brazen woman before me, trying to picture what kind of fool—other than me—would blow her off. Hannah’s like the physical embodiment of a Renaissance painting. Soft skin, a great rack, and hips that I just want to grab. Why would guys not call after sleeping with a goddess like her? Idiots.
That includes me.
Also, I’m totally relieved that there’s no baby. Child. And for the first time, it’s not relief that I’m not saddled with a woman and a kid. I’m happy that I didn’t leave this all for Hannah to do by herself.
I take a step toward her. This is killing me. I don’t know why, either. Maybe because she’s made it clear that she doesn’t want anything from me. I’m not used to that.
It’s actually quite attractive that she doesn’t treat me like I’m special. She gives me shit and doesn’t let me off the hook.
Plus, she knows sports.
Maybe it’s because she knew me back when. Before I was famous. She’s familiar and comfortable like going home should be. Not that my own home has ever felt like that, but what I imagine it to be.
I clasp her hands. “Hannah, tell me what I did.”
She pulls her hands out of mine, turning away. She sits down on the couch and motions for me to take a seat. I look at her expectantly.
“I ... I got sick. Really sick after ... you know. I ended up in the hospital. The ICU. It was really bad. I almost died.”
That’s shocking. “Oh my God, Han. I’m so sorry. That sucks.” I pause for a minute. “But what did I do? How did I make you sick? How is it on me?”
She takes another breath before starting again. “That morning ... after. I needed to get out. All your roommates were there—”
“I remember.” I remember her hair, a mess. I remember her searching around my room for her clothes. I don’t know if she ever found her underwear. She was wearing one of my jerseys with her bare legs and ass hanging out. God, the sight of my name on her back made me want to claim her again. I wanted to ask her to stay and go to breakfast with me, but she was totally panicking. I knew she was embarrassed and ashamed. It’s like she knew I wasn’t good enough for her and didn’t want anyone to find out.
“So I left without even going to the bathroom.”
“You practically ran out the door. To be honest, I’d never had anyone want to leave like that before. I thought you must have regretted it.”
Regretted me.
Hannah blinks rapidly. “Um, what?”
“You know, like you had beer goggles on and that’s the only reason you came home with me, and you were ashamed of being with me.”
“Have you seen you? And when you forget about trying to act like a jock, you’re actually a decent human being. I thought your friends would give you a hard time about bringing me home, and I didn’t want to hear the comments about being your pity fuck.”
There is no way that’s what she actually thought. I need to set that record straight. “Dude, lots of guys on the team wanted to nail you. They were too afraid you’d kick their asses if they ever made a pass.”
She used to do this thing where she’d roll her shorts up so they were super short and then wipe her sweat with the hem of her shirt. I don’t think she had any idea what that did to me. Good thing I was usually wearing a cup.
She tilts her head. “Me?”
It’s my turn. “Have you seen you? You are gorgeous without being all made up and fake. You were fierce on the field, and you didn’t take shit from anyone, least of all me. You weren’t into all that girly shit and drama. You were like one of the guys, if we wanted to screw each other.”
I don’t think that came out right.
“I think there might be a compliment in there, but I’m not sure.”
“You know how good my motivational speeches are.”
Hannah laughs. “Legendary.”
I return her smile. “So you thought you were sparing me? It’s not because you were ashamed?”
She shakes her head. “If I thought people would have believed me—that you were after me—I would have taken out a billboard. But contrary to popular belief, female athletes don’t always do well with dating. Men, that is. They seem to be intimidated by us. Or maybe it’s just me. That was my experience anyway.”
